


Middle 1897-Return from the Weekend War

by Marcus_Gantry



Series: Photographic Memories [2]
Category: Steam Powered Giraffe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:07:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26973403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marcus_Gantry/pseuds/Marcus_Gantry
Summary: A polaroid shot of The Spine returning home after his first war.
Series: Photographic Memories [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1966084
Kudos: 12





	Middle 1897-Return from the Weekend War

**Author's Note:**

> In this piece, as it is early 1897, Rabbit pronouns are he/his. I am well aware of, and sympathetic to Rabbit's transition. This will evolve over time and other flashbacks. Felt it best to mention ahead of time.

The Spine shifted impatiently against the cable railing of the ship though his green eyes glowed brightly with the excitement of returning home.Three tugboats were racing out to guide the ship in. He watched them circle. Once they were at stationkeeping he slowly straightened up and cautiously moved down the gangway that would take him below decks. It was time to get Rabbit.

He unclipped the canteen from his belt, uncapping it to take a swig of water. He shook it first. Less than half full. They had been short rationed on water the entire voyage. Most of his battle armor, and a good portion of Rabbit’s, was missing as he had traded it for the much needed liquid. He was beginning to feel the strain. He recapped it without drinking and went below.

Rabbit lay prostrate on a bed made of straw and burlap sacks. The two weeks at sea had not been kind, his copper sheathing coated with a streaked green patina. Bomb damaged lower limbs made it difficult for him to walk. But he was awake and aware, unlike many of their companions who were in dunnage down below, shut down and powerless. The Spine knelt down, offering the last of his water, cradling Rabbit’s head while he drank.

The throbbing of the engines was changing pitch. “Rabbit listen. Hear that? We’re home. I saw the tugs coming out. We made it.” Rabbit nodded listlessly. “Do you think you can make it up to the deck? I want to get us off this ship as soon as possible. I want off. And I want to get you back home.” Rabbit stirred, attempting to prop himself up on his arms. “Here, let me help you.” The Spine put an arm under Rabbit’s shoulders and raised him to a sitting position. Pulling Rabbit's arm around his neck, being careful of the broken, extended saw blade attached to Rabbit’s forearm, he made ready to lift.

“On three. Here we go. One. Two. Threeee…” With a wrenching of gears in all of Rabbit’s body, and quite a bit of whining in the Spine’s, they both managed to stand together. Slowly they made their way up the gangway ramp to the main deck. Rabbit was dragging his left leg while leaning heavily against the Spine.

“Hatchworth? Jon? Are they coming off with us?” Rabbit whispered.

The Spine drew a deep breath, a long sigh. “No Rabbit. They’ll be coming back later.” He wasn’t going to remind Rabbit yet again of the battle that had separated them from their friends, possibly forever. No, not again.

It seemed to take forever for the tugs to be satisfied with the ship’s approach to the dock and even longer for the lines to be thrown and secured. The Spine scanned the pier looking for a friendly face, anyone who might be from the manor come to get them. He spotted a familiar-looking carriage near the head of the pier. “I hope they brought water…” he thought aloud to himself.

As they waited for the gangway to be deployed, a few other automatons shambled up from below decks. Several deckhands roughly pushed them back away from the railing. The Spine and Rabbit were already sheltered against a bulkhead, watching the abuse. “Passengers first!” the men yelled. “You lot wait your turn.”

A small group of humans in family units waited to disembark, stoic men with weeping women and children, they had sold their last worldly possessions in order to gain passage to America. They were arriving as immigrants, hoping for a new life. The Spine envied them. He had no idea for himself what he might be returning to. He knew from where he had just come, and he knew he didn’t want to have to do that ever again. He didn’t want to be a “weapon of war.”

At last it was their turn. Again slinging Rabbit’s arm across his shoulders and with a hand gripping the lower edge of his back carapace to keep him upright, the Spine led the small group down the steep gangway to the pier. They had been a cohort together in the fight. They walked in unison as best they could, the crowd parting before them in disbelief and fear. One of the robots, unnamed and unknown, fell to his knees, but two others picked him up and carried him forward. They made their way out to what the Spine could now see were several wagons, not just one.

Rabbit and the Spine stood before the lead carriage. It had taken great effort to get this far. When he raised his head to look up at the driver for instruction, his eyes were met by her soft brown ones.

Abigail, one of the robot caretakers from the manor, had been sent to meet them. She had actually volunteered as she had been assigned as The Spine's caretaker on his awakening. She hadn’t recognized them at first in the remains of their battle armor, grunge-covered and battle damaged. They’d had to be standing directly below her before she recognized the singed remnants of the Spine’s once beautiful head of hair. She jumped from the cart, rushing to throw her arms around the Spine.

“You came back!” she cried holding him as tightly as she could. She stepped back. “And my poor, poor Rabbit! Oh! What has happened to you! Oh this is horrible! Your leg. It’s…It’s…” 

“It’s nothing, child,” Rabbit whispered. “Right as rain soon enough. D-d-do you have some water? I’m a might parched.”

“Of…of course,” she said, choking back the tears. “here in the back.” 

She looked back down the pier, not seeing Jon or Hatchworth. Perhaps another ship? The driver of the carriage had already lowered the tailgate and was handing out tankards of water dipped from a large barrel. With some help from his soldiers, the Spine lifted Rabbit and the other fallen robot into the back of the carriage, making sure they were both fully tanked up before tending to his own needs. He had just finished his fourth tankard of water when he looked over the rim to see Abigail staring back at him, tears in her eyes. The Spine could feel the oil welling into his own eyes. Setting the tankard down, he went over to her.

“May I… May I hug you properly?” he asked. She nodded and held out her arms to him. He fell to his knees before her, gingerly taking her into his arms as the oil tears spilled from his eyes. 

At first it was just tears, then he started to murmur.

“I lost them,” he cried softly. “I lost them...Hatchworth...Jon...I'm so sorry... I...I....lost them........” She held him tightly to her as his sobs racked his entire body. She rested her face to the top of his head, whispering, "It'll be alright," until he quieted. The driver caught her attention.

“Spine, can you stand?” she asked quietly, “It’s time we got you home.” He nodded. He released her and slowly rose to his feet.

“I’ve ruined your beautiful dress,” he whispered, aghast at the dark black oil stains streaking down her bodice. She took his arm and steered him to the back of the carriage.

“The dress doesn’t matter. You’re home. That is what matters.” 

“I’m not sure it does matter,” he whispered, shaking his head sadly. She patted his shoulder as he climbed into the back. He settled in the carriage next to Rabbit. Abigail climbed up front with the driver. As the carriage started forward, The Spine looked back down the pier. The first cargo sling was coming up from the ship’s hold. He closed his eyes against the sight of robot limbs skewed at odd angles poking from the webbing.  
One of them was bronze.


End file.
